Apocalypse Now
by AirborneGirl
Summary: Alesha has finally found the one. Or so she thinks. Matt's a little less convinced. But will Aleshe appreciate his meddling? Mattesha, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Apocalypse now**

**A/N**: Hi everyone! I'm back again, after sorting out a lot of things going on in my private life. Thank God I now have time again to get back to writing, so this is my first multi-chapter story in a very long time. Hope you enjoy it!

**Spoilers**: There are none. And Matt's still very much intact.

**Disclaimer**: With so many L&O spin-offs, one would think Dick Wolf could afford to give this one away. Sadly, I think he might disagree, so they're his. Damn…oh well, on with it.

At school, during bible class, the Apocalypse was sometimes mentioned, especially when your teachers felt like you once again deserved to know what would happen to bad kids like yourself and your classmates if you didn't stop misbehaving right that very moment.

And like every other kid, you forgot everything about it as soon as school was out for the day.

Now you wish you had learned your lesson, but how could you possibly have known that your personal hell would come in the disguise of your very best mate, stabbing you in the back, betraying you? Is there any way life can prepare you for something like that?

You thought he was your friend. Thought you could trust him explicitly with anything and everything at any given moment. That there was no jealousy between you and that you always wanted the very best for each other no matter what.

So much for that trust.

Why? Why had he done it? Why hadn't he trusted your own judgment? You're a big girl, you can take care of yourself. Sure, you appreciate his support in the choices you make, you ask him for his advice many times, but at the end of the day, those choices are still yours to make, right? Right! So Matt freakin' Devlin had no business snooping around in your love life! Matt freakin' Devlin, your formal 'mate', should be happy you even have a love life again! God knows it took you long enough.

In a time where an honest man is harder to find than the next Hope diamond, you consider yourself extremely lucky to find a bloke like Adam. He's a hotel manager with a big, luxury chain of hotels and resorts all around Europe, he travels a lot and he gets remarkable discounts when you want to take a vacation. He makes good money, he's intelligent without being condescending, funny without getting annoying, attentive without being patronizing...and quite handsome. In short, he's a catch.

Still, it wasn't enough for your so-called friend. No, he had to humiliate your new man in the worst possible way. And what was worse, he expected you to be grateful for it too.

It had all started so well. When the six of you (Jake, Henry, Natalie, Ronnie, Matt and yourself) had decided to get together at your usual pub for some drinks that Friday, you had opted to bring Adam along. You were eager to introduce him to your mates and you were, to be honest, even more eager for them to like him. And for Adam to like them. Though you weren't sure why you needed their approval, you were looking for it nonetheless.

And at first glance, it seemed he got it. Adam was forward and open, even when Matt went into interrogation mode, something you had brushed off as an occupational hazard combined with his concern for your wellbeing. At least you didn't pay much attention to it at the moment. Adam stood his ground perfectly well without you and if you were honest, you were a little flattered that Matt cared so much. Besides, he stopped when you shot him an annoyed glare.

So everything settled down again. But that was until he took it too far.

A week later, when he and Ronnie had come by the CPS office to drop off some files, Matt was holding one manila folder back, motioning for you to come over for a somewhat more private conversation.

Sensing it might be important, you nodded and followed him into your own office, closing the door behind you. Ronnie, who was apparently informed, left to get lunch.

When you focussed on your mate, he was unnaturally fidgety. Something must be seriously wrong for him to act this peculiar. It was unnerving to see him act so out of character.

"Something wrong, Matt? You look so serious. Something about a case?"

"Yeah...I mean no, not really. It's eh...God it's complicated."

He slowly shoved the folder over the table to your side, barely touching it, as if the mere edges are dipped in poison.

Curiosity peaked, you opened the folder. How you now wish you hadn't. It contained a full report on gathered evidence of several crimes, including drugs trafficking, money laundering and bribery, committed by management and staff of a renowned hotel chain.

Adam's chain.

It dated several years ago and though the evidence was sufficient to bring the culprits to trial, the case was settled out of court for a hefty fine.

At first, you were not sure why Matt would want you to see it, but then with one look, he urged you to read further.

And there it was. Adam Garrison. His name. On file. In a criminal investigation.

Not good.

Even if he was just a witness, even when you read that no charges were brought against him personally, that there was no evidence pointing in his direction as, at that time, he was no partner, as he is today, to have your name on file like this is a permanent mark that can seriously damage the good name of both the person as well as the firm.

The more you read the angrier you got. At Adam, for keeping this from you, even if it was years ago and you were not even a prosecutor yet, but also; even more so, at the man sitting opposite from you. For butting in, for having the audacity to check out your new boyfriend's track record. Sure he's a copper and he can't help himself (apparently), but he should be able to trust your good judgment in picking your own potential love interest! Even if his past might be a bit shady. Might be. It might not have had anything to do with him.

You wondered at that moment and you still do about what would have happened had Matt not found anything (possibly) wrong with your current beau. Would he have kept trying?

And...had he done this before without telling you? Was he the one who chased Will away after only three weeks without as much as a text message? Is he the reason Craig simply stopped calling after the second date?

Blazing with the insult of it all, you flung the file from the table, loose bits of paper getting scattered on the floor. Matt looked at you with mild surprise; probably still thinking your anger came from what you'd just read.

That lasted all of five seconds.

Then you started screaming.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Matt!?"

Startled and confused, he sat back, not answering but then again, you never did give him a chance to rebuff.

"Why, why on earth did you feel the need to check out my boyfriend? What made you think I would appreciate you snooping into his private affairs? In MY private affairs?!"

"Lesh, I just thought..."

"No, you didn't. You didn't think at all! You just want to destroy a perfectly good relationship and for the life of me I can't figure out why a friend, or someone who dares to call himself a friend, would do such a thing."

You could feel the burning behind you eyes but refused to cry. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you this humiliated. Still, your voice faltered when you continued.

"What have I done to you Matt? That you can be this cruel?"

His eyes were cast down, his shoulders slumped. Like he was the one defeated. You remember how you waited for the rush of satisfaction to come, but it never did.

"It was never my intention to be cruel. If you never believe anything I say to you from now on I want you to believe this. You're my friend, and I refuse to apologize for wanting to look after you."

"I can look after myself, thank you very much. I don't need you."

All colour drained from his face at those last fatal words. Even if you thought he was cruel, than you certainly took it to the next level. But there was no taking it back. He hurt you, you hurt him right back. A fight without winners and the best friendship of your life lost. Possibly forever.

The silence was deafening as Matt picked up the pieces of paper from the table and floor and shoved them back into the folder. Without looking back even once, he left the room, called out to Ronnie and disappeared around the corner.

Part II coming soon. Let me know what you think, please. I would very much appreciate it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thanks to my reviewers for being so kind to me! It's always nice to know your stories are being read and appreciated. So here's a new chapter for you, twice as long and hopefully up to scratch...

**Disclaimer**: Don't own, don't sue...please? Promise? On with it then...

Now, as time progresses and life, as they say, moves on, yours sucks more than you thought it could ever suck at any rate. Your relationship with Adam is dwindling, because even though you promised yourself the file Matt showed you was not going to make any difference, it actually does.

It gnaws on you, day and night. Everything Adam says and does, everything he doesn't say or do is suspect. Every word has a double meaning and though you promised yourself that, once you had become a prosecutor, you would not make the mistake of going into work mode with any of your boyfriends, it's doubly hard now. Not one of your love interests has given you much reason to be suspicious so far, but now...God you wish you'd never seen the file.

You swallow it away for as long as you can, but now that the seed of doubt is firmly planted in your mind by a certain DS you wish you could hate, it has started to take root and now the growth of it simply won't be stopped, no matter how charming Adam's trying to be.

To top that off, you and Matt are still not on speaking terms. Well, at work you have to be, of course, but there's this veil of professional courtesy, barely thick enough to conceal the hurt of betrayal, of words that can never be unsaid. Of words that should be said and purposefully held back. The silences that fall between case updates and court preparations are cutting at your heartstrings more sharply than any knife could ever do. The openings you should have taken to make amends never get used and soon disappear too as they're filled by awkwardness, shame and leftover resentment.

God, how it hurts.

And then, about two months after your fallout with your once best mate, some strange things start to happen.

At first, it's nothing alarming. Adam's working a lot of overtime and is constantly on the move, travelling to visit and inspect hotels or to add new, formally independent hotels to their chain. In between these business trips, he still cancels a few dates and when he does make it, he's tired, jetlagged and agitated. In the bedroom, the few times you actually make it there, he's distracted, too preoccupied to fulfil your needs, which aren't that demanding, really. Yet, you cling to the idea of loving him, so you make sure no complaint ever leaves your lips whenever you are with him. It's a sad note to be proud of your ability to fake it, just to get it over with.

But it's getting harder and harder to believe in the fairytales you've created for yourself. You're not sure why you want to keep pretending in the first place.

Still, the status quo does not change, even when your boyfriend cancels dinner for the umpteenth time and then tries to bribe you into forgiving him with overlarge and overpriced jewellery, expensive perfumes and other gifts. Just like any other man of some wealth, he thinks you're for sale somehow. It irks you, but you never get the opportunity to tell him so as he's soon being whisked off too wherever. Then again, he probably wouldn't listen anyway.

So you struggle on and on, working by day and patiently waiting for your man by night. Not a scenario you're comfortable with. You haven't seen your circle of girl friends for weeks, never committing to going out with them in case Adam wants to see you. It's like you're having an affair with a married man, though you know that's not true. You've at least checked out that much. If anything, he's married to the job. To the status it brings with it.

Slowly but surely, this relationship of sorts you have with him, isolates you from the rest of the world. Either you're with him or you're alone, waiting for a chance to be with him. It's ridiculous, really.

Take tonight for instance. You were supposed to go for a bite to eat and see a show. You're not sure where you were supposed to go to, it was meant to be a surprise. And quite a surprise it was: he cancelled, again, calling you on his cell phone from the backseat of a company limo to tell you he got stuck in traffic on his way to a dinner meeting with a business partner and the owner of a chain of vacation homes at the Normandy coast, willing to sell by lack of successors in the family.

It sounds plausible, it always does and as usual, you tell him it's quite okay, you'll go another time. You hang up the phone, take a shower to wash off the excess make-up and dress in your most comfortable track suit. With a tub of ice cream on your lap and the remote within reach, you find a feel good movie and settle in.

A few minutes into the movie, you've forgotten all about your earlier plans. You're so engrossed in the story, you're quite alarmed when your cell phone rings from the depths of the small clutch you were supposed to be taking with you tonight. Thinking it might be Adam to try and salvage what's left of the evening, you put the television on mute, scramble onto your feet, locate the discarded clutch on the pile on your bed, fish out the insistently ringing phone and pick up, not even looking at the name on screen.

"Hi Adam."

It's not Adam.

It's a female voice, barely audible over the unidentifiable ruckus in the background. You're sure you've never heard the voice before, but it's not the voice itself, but the message that sets all the hairs at the back of your neck prickling.

"_Listen to me, JCP Alesha Phillips and do not interrupt. Do not ask questions. I want to let you know that your boyfriend, Adam Garrison is currently sitting in a pub, having a very cosy conversation with none other than Jack Riordan and his mate Dan Raggerty. I know you know who I'm referring to."_

Of course you know. You've been trying for years and years to bring down the syndicate of Jack Riordan and his cronies, Dan Raggerty being the most important one of them.

Jack's criminal organization has its many tentacles in every crime imaginable, including producing, trafficking and selling of every drug known to mankind and a few that aren't, people smuggling, prostitution, extortion, creating and distributing child pornography. And that's probably just the tip of the iceberg. His criminal files so far take up a cabinet of their own and with the ongoing investigation, another cabinet should be added soon. And still, much to your chagrin, he has so far dodged every attempt at charging him, like he has dodged all bullets fired at him by either legal officers or other criminals whose toes he might have stepped on along the way. The fact he's rich enough to hire an army of expert lawyers to help defend him and accountants and software geeks handy enough to cover a lot of his tracks, doesn't help your cause either.

That and the fact he's rumoured to have a lot of judges in his pocket either by threatening to hurt their families or by bribing them.

In short, he's a royal pain in the prosecutors' combined backsides and you'd give an arm and a leg to finally bring him down forever.

In the meantime, whoever was on the phone has hung up during your stunned silence as you try and wrap your mind around the thing you've just heard.

It can't be possible. But there has to be something you can do. Besides from ignoring it, that is. And if you'd been any other girlfriend, you might want to do just that. Take the ostrich approach, stick your head firmly into the sand and let it all slip underneath the radar. But whoever called you, knows you're a prosecutor and must have realized that, as such, you can't let it go.

Sure there's always the possibility that this was a prank call and therefore not to be taken seriously, but then again, nobody was laughing.

This is real, you just know it. Also because there's no caller ID, so it's impossible to trace back the call.

Now what to do?

Your first instinct is to call Matt, but you hold it back. Though not a man to gloat and rub the conclusion that he's right and you're wrong in your face, you're still not sure you want to admit the fact you've just made a terrible mistake out loud. Childish perhaps, but there you have it.

On moments like these, you're happy you've gotten into the habit of recording every phone conversation you ever make. It's most likely a very paranoid thing to do and most shrinks would have a field day sorting out the layers of reasons why you're doing it, but clearly, it's not such a bad idea after all.

If only you could get yourself out of your state of stupor and do something other than just stand there in the middle of the living room with the pantomime of characters looking foolish on the television screen behind you; a stark contrast to your total state of immobile shock.

Then the phone, still in your limp hand, rings again. Shrieking with shock, you look at the small screen lighting up, as if the caller could jump at you from the small rectangle and throttle you. Then you exhale.

It's Matt.

"Matt?"

"Hi, Lesh."

His voice sounds odd. Not as gruff as it's been the last couple of days, but not his usual relaxed self either. Your heart rate turns up a notch again and you're worried it'll go into overdrive any moment.

"Matt, are you okay?"

A small chuckle escapes his throat, though it doesn't sound humorous.

"I was about to ask you the same. Listen, I got the weirdest phone call just now. A female voice, instructing me to go and see how you're doing and that it was urgent. Nothing more. No number on screen to call back to, so I figured I'd call you first, before walking straight into a trap. Are you okay, love? Do you know what this can all mean?"

You sigh. This could be a lot more serious than you thought, although you're still not sure if the unknown female caller is friend or foe.

"I think I do, a little at least. But it's hard to explain over the phone."

"I'm on my way then. See you in a bit."

"Okay...and Matt? You might need to inform Nat as well."

"We will if we need to, okay?"

The connection gets broken and you aimlessly walk to the bathroom, clean yourself up a bit and drag yourself to the kitchen to put on the kettle for some tea or coffee, not sure which one he prefers this late in the evening.

Your phone beeps again and you jump. Angry at your own skittishness, you pick it up from where you left it on the kitchen table and read the text message from Adam.

_Sorry, darling. Getting 2 late 2 bother you.  
Staying at my own apartment tonight.  
Call me tomorrow? X. Adam._

You sigh in relief. Having Adam walk in on you and Matt while you're investigating the possibility of his involvement with one of London's biggest criminals is not something you were looking forward to. As a dutiful girlfriend, you text a sweet message back and put the phone down.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. A soaking wet Matt Devlin is standing in front of you. You hadn't realized it was raining this hard outside.

"Please, come in. Let me get you a towel. Take off that coat."

You're so ridiculously relieved to see him, so happy he's still there for you after the terrible accusations you made at him, you're actually tugging at the sleeves of his drenched coat. Matt starts to laugh, grabbing your hands in his own.

"Whoa there, tiger. Had I known you were in such a hurry to get me undressed, I would have worn my new boxers."

You feel a blush creeping up and not for the first time, you're glad you're no ginger. Muttering something about getting those towels, you make a beeline to the linen closet in your bedroom, only letting the air escape once you know you're alone.

Grabbing the first stack of towels you can find, you hand them to your friend without looking at him, but you can hear his chuckle as he takes them from you. Matt hangs up his coat, wiping his hair with one towel while placing another one underneath the dripping cloth as to not soak your hardwood floor.

It's what you love most about him. He's so thoughtful around people. You understand now that when he showed you the file incriminating Adam's firm, he was simply doing the same. Looking out for you.

"You want something to drink?"

"If you happen to have any coffee brewing."

"I do, but I'm afraid I only have instant."

"Fine by me, love."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you internally shriek with joy. He's back to casually calling you 'love' and it makes you almost giddy with happiness.

"Take a seat. I'll be back in a minute."

As Matt settles down on your couch, looking around him curiously, you apply yourself to the task of making the hot drinks without spilling anything. In one of the cabinets, you find a pack of cookies. There's no reason why you shouldn't be hospitable despite the circumstances.

Back in the living room, he's quick to help you as he takes over the tray of mugs and cookies. He smiles his full charming Matt smile before taking a grateful sip from his full mug, warming his hands around it.

"Thanks, 'Lesh. I needed that, it's cold outside."

You nod, but nerves have crept back into your system and your throat is too raspy to respond. Immediately aware of the change of atmosphere, he pats the seat next to him.

"Come sit down, love. Let's figure out what's going on here."

He's taking charge, back in DS Devlin mode. You're glad of it. Ever since that strange phone call, you've been trying to get yourself into JCP Phillips mode, but it's not working out too well for you so far. You can't switch personalities on demand, apparently.

You start by playing back the phone call for him and he confirms it's the same female voice telling him to come here tonight.

"Well, if we for now assume this was no prank call and that Adam is in serious cahoots with Jack Riordan, than we need to know what he's up to. It could be your boyfriend is in it willingly, but he could also be forced. In which case Riordan knows something about Adam he doesn't want anyone else, or especially you to know about."

"Either way, Adam's in trouble."

Matt nods, his face glum as he continues.

"I'm not worried about Adam, 'Lesh. He's a grown man. I'm way more worried about you. This could get you in trouble too."

"I think I'm safe for now."

"Don't be so sure of that. 'Lesh, you could be dating a criminal here. Even if he's not a threat to you as it is, he could easily use you as leverage. He could claim you knew about his illegal activities and helped him cover it up. Even if he doesn't physically hurt you, this could seriously harm your career."

Shit. You haven't thought about that. How could you have been so incredibly, dangerously naive? What better way to clean your slate than to date a legal officer? Did he pick you out for especially that purpose?

And what if you refused to budge? Threaten to bring him down yourself? He could threaten you, hurt you. Kill you.

Suddenly cold, you wonder how, where and when your rainbow relationship had turned into such a storm cloud. You shiver violently and immediately, Matt's there, putting a tentative arm around you. When he finds you're not recoiling, he draws you in closer, until your head's comfortably leaning against his shoulder, his head resting on top of yours.

It's an amazing fit. Your trembling subsides a little.

"Don't worry too much, love. Nothing's set in stone yet. You're in no eminent danger and the moment you think you might be, I want you to come to me, or Ronnie or Nat. I don't care if it's the middle of the night. In the meantime, just try and act as normally as you can around him, don't give him any reason to be suspicious of your behaviour and don't let him know anything about the phone call you got."

"I'll try. I just..."

"I know. I don't like it either. But we'll have to cross all the bridges when we get there. There's not enough evidence to arrest him now, there's not even enough to bring him in for questioning. So there's nothing we can do but wait it out and play along until we do know more."

"You think I'm up to it? I'm not a very good actress."

As always, Matt's quick to reassure you.

"You'll manage, love. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And if you don't want to get further involved, why don't you just come up with some excuse and break up with him?"

"What kind of excuse?"

"Like, you're totally in love with this certain DS you work with?"

"Who, Ronnie? He'll never fall for that."

Grinning and elbowing you slightly in the ribs, he answers:

"Not the DS I was referring to and you know it."

"You mean yourself then? Like I said, I'm not a very good actress."

He looks hurt, but you're not fooled by his pouty expression. Adorable as it is, you know his over inflated ego can take a hit. So you give him a sweet grin instead.

"And neither are you, my friend, so stop the pseudo sulking and get us a drink."

He stands, bowing deeply.

"Whatever the lady wishes."

"The lady wishes a beer. Take one yourself too."

"No thanks, the roads are bad enough without adding any alcohol. I'll stick to some juice if you have any."

"It's all in the fridge."

He nods, disappearing into the kitchen. You take the opportunity to stretch your legs in an attempt to relax. Having Matt back in your life as a friend does help a lot, but the reason he's here tonight doesn't fail to scare you.

He comes back from the kitchen with a beer bottle, an empty glass and a glass of orange juice for himself, handing you the cold drink. Ignoring the glass, you simply put the bottle to your lips and gulp the cool liquid down. Only when you put the now almost empty bottle down on the table, hoping he didn't hear the small burp escaping your throat, do you see Matt looking at you in amusement.

"What? You've never seen a woman drink beer before?"

"Not like that I haven't."

You shrug.

"Is it off-putting? Adam doesn't like me to drink beer at all. Thinks it's not a lady's drink."

He scoffs. "He does realize women have equal rights these days, doesn't he? I mean, he knows you can also vote, right? Run for prime minister?"

"I don't know. Perhaps that's why he wanted to date me."

Reality sinks in after that last remark of yours. Suddenly skittish now that the dreaded subject is back on the table, you take the bottle and slug down the remaining contents, trying to hide the reoccurring trembling in your hands.

To no avail, though.

Matt takes the bottle away from you and sets it back, taking your hands in his own warmer ones.

"Don't do that to yourself, 'Lesh. You're a beautiful, smart, strong woman who happens to be in love with a man who might be involved in some criminal activities. The fact you didn't realize does not make you stupid, it makes you a sweet and caring partner to your lover. It would never change my opinion of you, nor those of the people who matter."

A smart woman who happens to be in love...who happens to be in love...

"I'm not, you know."

The words have left your mouth before you are conscious of even thinking them. But worse than saying them out loud is the fact that, now that they're said, you know them to be true.

You're not claiming to be a psychic. It's not that you have somehow known all along that he was up to no good. And yet...you were never totally swept off your feet by Adam. No matter what he did, how many times he brought you flowers or expensive gifts, no matter how attentive he was to your needs (at the start at least), no matter what he did in the bedroom (though you still blamed your bashfulness there on your ordeal with Merrick), it was all okay, but never really...wow.

After months of hoping, you'd given up on the wow and settled for the okay, convincing yourself that it was all you needed, that many women your age didn't even have as much as that. Perhaps it was time for you to get your nose out of the sleazy romance novels and see the world of dating and relationships for what it was: a whole lot of hysterics about pink clouds and seventh heaven and a lot of disappointment once you woke up. Perhaps you were never supposed to scratch the veneer.

Adam seemed to adore you, he was nice to you and you liked him well enough to settle. So settle you did. For the less than perfect love life, for the less than courteous manner in which he treated you lately. For his lack of true interest in and attention for you, compensated by unnecessarily expensive gifts.

Surprised at your little, yet oh so big admission, Matt looks at you.

"You're not what?"

"Not in love."

"You mean, not anymore?"

"No, I mean I don't think I ever was. I...It's complicated."

"That's okay. I'm in no hurry."

Wow. You hope he doesn't charge for this psychology session by the hour. You don't make that kind of money and your health insurance might not cover it.

"I guess...I wanted to be in love, in a relationship so badly. Like I wanted some evidence I could still be loved, that I wasn't somehow...defiled forever. So when I met Adam, I willed myself to fall in love with him and somewhere along the way I must have started to believe it. Now that this is all happening, I know I can't actually be in love when it's this easy to think I might be happier without this mess. I mean, if I really loved him, shouldn't my first reaction be anger at you for your ludicrous accusations? Shouldn't I be mortified that you could even think such a thing?"

"Well, you did do that before."

"True, but that was also because I wanted to do what was expected of me. Or at least I didn't want to admit out loud, to myself or to you, that I was in a relationship I never believed in to begin with."

"Don't you think you're way too smart to fool yourself like that?"

"As a prosecutor maybe. As a woman, apparently not. Huh...guess I am a good actress. I almost believed in the role I forced myself to play."

He gives a small, sweet smile, again putting his arm around your shoulder.

"That's quite enough of the self-incrimination, love. I know very few ladies smarter than you. Natalie comes close I guess, but that's it, really."

You suppress a small smile, though internally you're very pleased with his kindness.

"Thanks for saying that. I do feel a little foolish."

A glint in his eyes tells you he's definitely up to something. When he opens his mouth, you know you were right.

"Well...it could be you were in serious doubt because of something else."

"Do I dare ask?"

"You're strong enough to take the blow of the truth coming out. To find out that I was right all along."

"About what?"

Turns out, you weren't strong enough. Or at the very least not smart enough. You should have known he was setting a trap for you. Instead, you walk right into it.

"About you having all these romantic cravings for a certain handsome DS we all know and love. And no, that's not Ronnie."

You laugh and decide that, before you make the terrible mistake of answering in the affirmative, he's got to go. It's getting late and you're tired. Knowing you have to pretend to still be all lovey-dovey with Adam in the morning doesn't help raise your mood either.

The moment you stand, he gets up too, recognizing your need to stew over this evening's revelation on your own for a while.

He follows you to the door and as he puts on his still damp coat, turns to you. He takes both your hands in his own and holds them against his chest.

"Try to get some sleep, love. And don't worry too much about Adam. Like I said, he might still be an innocent pawn in all this, we basically don't know anything for sure yet. We'll discuss it with Jake and Henry next Monday, see if they think there's enough cause to start an investigation. We might need to search your house, though."

"I know. I'll hide the drugs before you get here."

"Very funny."

He draws you in for a quick hug and, trying not to cling to him too desperately, you let yourself sink into his embrace for a second, disregarding the dampness of the material beneath your cheek. After a while, he lets go of you with a sigh, kissing your cheek as a goodbye.

"Goodnight, 'Lesh. Call me if you need anything. Really, anything."

"I will, I promise. Goodnight, Matt, and thanks."

"Anytime, love."

With another sigh, you close the door behind you, glad you're going to bed alone tonight.

_That's all for now! Again, your opinion is much appreciated and I'll try to update soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Enjoy the next installment of my story. Special thanks to clouds2011: Congratulations on getting over to the dark side! Glad you like my story so for and thanks for letting me know. The same goes for all of you out there who show your support.

**Disclaimer**: Well, I think if they'd been given to me, I would remember...so either it;s amnesia or they're not mine...

Oh well, on with the third installment

When you finally see Adam again the next Sunday, he's full of apologies. He comes in bringing peace offerings like a dozen long stemmed ruby red roses, expensive wine and handmade Belgian chocolates that look too pretty to eat. Like always, it's way over the top. It's not that you don't like being spoiled, but after months of knowing you, he should have known you're not into the heady red wines he chooses (they make your head ache no matter what the connoisseurs say), that you think two pounds for one flower is ridiculous when you know it's going to wilt anyway and that the rich chocolates make your otherwise flawless skin break out in spots.

You're a beer and crackers girl, no nonsense, who likes to be surprised every now and then but who would be just as happy watching a footie match on the telly in a track suit than dress up like a vamp and go to the opera just so Adam can show you off as his latest asset.

Why in the hell did you start this relationship again? Oh, right, because you wanted a boyfriend so you could pretend everything was hunky-dory. All rainbows and candy canes. Sure.

You dine (with Adam, you never just eat; you dine) and then, as you load the dishwasher in a typical fifties businessman-housewife setting, he's already setting up his laptop on the cleared dinner table to go back to whatever business he needs to do, whether criminal or not.

Though no word of complaint leaves your lips, inside you're seething. He's the only one who can make you feel inferior, nothing more than a housekeeper he occasionally shags. A whore he pays with expensive gifts. A concubine.

You wish you could just throw him out, tell him it's not working out, but you promised Matt yesterday you'd wait with these kind of rash actions until he can convince DI Chandler and Henry and Jake to start an investigation. That might take a while, so you take a deep breath to steady yourself and carry on.

With two cups of freshly brewed coffee, you walk back into the room, setting one cup next to his laptop on the table, making sure he can't knock it over. He thanks you with nothing but a mumble and you leave him to do whatever he's doing, hoping that if it's something illegal, he'll be careless enough to leave a trail of evidence behind.

Later, in bed, he reaches out to you and thinking of God and country, you do your duty as an obedient concubine, only letting out your breath and some tears when you hear his breathing even out in slumber.

What have you gotten yourself into? This is no better than Merrick. And a least Merrick only assaulted you once.

But just like Merrick, you'll bring Adam down. Sooner or later (and please, let it be sooner), he'll join your rapist in jail. And you? You'll be free again.

The next morning, a dreary Monday morning, you wake up alone. Adam has already left, not even leaving a note behind. Cynical as you have become, you're even looking for cab fare on the bedside table.

At the CPS office, you find a notice in your mailbox. Next Wednesday, you'll have a meeting with Matt, Ronnie, Natalie and your superiors to discuss if there's enough cause to start the investigation. For today, there's a backlog on your paperwork to deal with and the preparation of a closing argument for a trial you're sitting second chair in tomorrow.

Adam cancels dinner that evening. You eat microwaved cup-a-noodles and drink Heineken straight from the bottle in front of the telly watching a marathon of your favourite soap.

On Tuesday, you spend almost all day in court, happy to do something intelligent and worthwhile. Going in it with zest, you manage to lead Jake to a firm victory, feeding him the right bits of information at the right time. Winning a difficult trial like this (with shaky, circumstantial evidence and no clear motive) confirms you're still a very smart lady.

Now all you wish for is to one day be smart enough not to need the confirmation in the first place.

Adam cancels dinner that evening. You grab a pizza with Matt, who appeared at the courthouse just to take you out.

On Wednesday, when, after a sleepless night, you enter the police station for your meeting. Matt has send you a text message informing you to come to the interrogation room instead of Natalie's office, where you normally get together when you need to discuss things. He's waiting for you at the door of the observation area next to the interrogation room. When you look through the one-sided window, you take a step back in shocked surprise. Inside are Ronnie and Natalie. And opposite them is a grumpy, dejected looking Dan Raggerty. You immediately want to go in there to give him a piece of your mind, but Matt gently holds you back, grabbing your arm to prevent you from entering the room.

"Don't go in there yet, 'Lesh. There's something you should know first."

He sits you down in the observation area. Again, you glance in the direction of Riordan's second in command. The hatred in your eyes must have shown, because Matt bites back a grin.

"That's what I wanted to tell you, love. There's no need to direct your hatred and confusion at him."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because...because he's one of us."

That's just ludicrous. It really goes beyond all imagination. You've been after this man and his boss for so long now, you have a closet full of files on the both of them. That man inside is responsible for so much pain and terror in so many layers of Britain's society...this is one cocked-up little story you won't fall for.

"Is that what he's claiming? Is that the best he can come up with? I'm an informant, I'm some undercover detective? Matt, please don't tell me you believe it?"

His look doesn't waver, his eyes never leave yours.

"I don't have to believe it. It's already been confirmed. He is DI Dan Raggerty. This morning, he called his Chief Inspector and told him he's at risk of being exposed. Ronnie and I were to make a bogus arrest to bring him in for questioning. He's there informing Natalie of his findings right now."

"But...how..."

"Here's what we know. You remember Charlie 'Studs' Berringer?"

"Yeah, he got killed in a drug gang related shooting last year."

"Then you remember he was Jack Riordan's right hand man before Dan succeeded him?"

"Sure."

"Dan had already successfully integrated himself into Jack's gang by then. Right after Studs got himself killed, he saw the opportunity to take his place and thus get a closer look at the top and with the permission of Chief Leland, he took it. He's been feeding his own unit bits of information ever since."

"Then why does he think he's being compromised right now?"

Matt sighs, his tone of voice softening with concern.

"Because of Adam. And his connection with you."

"What?!"

All of a sudden it occurs to you, grabs you by the throat that Adam really is what you feared he was all along. His connection to Jack is not a coincidence, not a matter of bribery or extortion or whatever.

He is in on it. On his own free will.

Adam is a cold-hearted criminal.

And you have let him get close to you. You've taken his flowers, his candy, his luxury goods. Been drinking his champagne, enjoying a glimpse of a jet-set life. A life he had bought with money made over other people's backs.

Suddenly, you feel sick. The room starts spinning around you, black dots appear in front of your eyes.

Matt's there though, like he always is.

"Please, Alesha, sit down. Breathe calmly. And drink this. Small sips."

He conjures up a glass of water out of thin air (your vision now so blurred you can't see where he has gotten it from) and lets you drink. You splutter a little, but most of it gets down. The cool liquid helps a little and the room stops its crazy twirling.

"Thanks, Matt."

"Anytime, love. Better now?"

"Yeah, yeah...I guess."

There's no need to fill in the blanks. You're as okay as you can be, considering all the facts. These past few days have just been a rollercoaster of conflicting emotions and you're certainly not at the end of that particular tunnel.

How many surprises are you supposed to handle still?

Now that you've calmed down sufficiently, Matt taps the glass to attract attention of the people inside. Nat motions for you to come in and join them.

It's a funny feeling sitting across from one of Britain's most wanted hardened criminals in the knowledge that he is, in fact, one of the good guys. You're dying to ask him how he can do it; how he can spend day after day in the close proximity of such dangerous and ruthless people, gaining their trust and playing along, destroying people's lives as if they were nothing but a nuisance or a tool at the most, and not go mental. How does he sleep at night?

Can you still trust him? How can you be sure his allegiance hasn't changed?

How can he be sure of that himself?

He's in the middle of his debriefing when you and Matt come in. It occurs to you, and not for the first time, that your friend sits close to you, watching you, guarding you with his eyes and ready to do the same with his body. He looks relaxed, but you've come to know this posture of his as nothing more than that; a posture. Matt is as alert and agile as he can get.

With a smile you silently communicate you're happy with his presence as well as his protectiveness. You've come to miss it these past few weeks of struggles.

Dan nods in your direction to acknowledge your presence in the room. Nat, for the record, states your and Matt's arrival. Dan simply continues his story in the same, rather detached tone of voice. When he mentions the night of the phone call however, he looks directly at you, addressing you personally. Somehow, the look in his eyes calms you. It's sharp, intelligent, a little weary but not without compassion. This is the look of a man determined to bring down one of Britain's most wanted, even if it takes time they can ill afford.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Phillips, I had to scare you like that. When we had just found out about the relationship between you and Adam, who's a relatively new but valuable asset to Jack's inner circle, I had to think fast on my feet. A few phone calls and rounds of research – again, I'm sorry I had to dig into your private affairs like that – told me you were not involved in and most likely not even aware of your boyfriends shady activities. But, as you must have concluded for yourself by now, there are some grave dangers you could get yourself into with a man like Adam. You're a very easy target, wide open for blackmail. Unbeknownst to you, there's a lot to be gained by spinning a web around one of our JCP's."

You sigh and nod in confirmation, still angry at yourself for being so easily duped.

"Yes, I know now what's at risk and I want you to do whatever it takes to bring him down. Whatever feelings I had for Adam Garrison are gone now. You have my full permission to search my house, his house and I'll provide you with addresses I know he's been to these last couple of weeks."

"That's very helpful Miss Phillips, but I know he will not have left much of a trace there. He knows you know about these hideaways, so either he would be a great fool to leave any evidence behind there or he's trying to set us off in the wrong direction. I'd bet my life on it that whatever we find there might lead us to you instead of him."

Suddenly wanting to play devil's advocate, you turn your full gaze to the man opposite.

"And how can you be sure, DI Raggerty, I'm not into it also?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"True, we can never be sure. You wouldn't be the first person to fall for the glamour. Or perhaps you're being blackmailed like anybody else. And the same goes for me. I know you've wondered about that too, haven't you? It's natural to be suspicious in our jobs. Call it occupational hazard. But it's also second nature to be thorough. Like I said, we had you checked out. And either you're a genius when it comes to covering your tracks, or you're really as innocent in this as it looks. For now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Then for now, I'll return that particular favour."

The both of you exchange a smile of mutual understanding and it occurs to you that, under more normal circumstances, you might actually come to like this man.

A trust now being enforced between all people in the room, the discussion gets a lot more real now. It is quickly decided that, as for now, everything should remain as it was. Dan is to be treated like any other suspect, which means he'll get to talk to a lawyer soon. Since this lawyer will most likely be in Jack's pocket, he's not to be informed about Jack's true identity as a detective. He'll get his client released without being charged and hopefully Dan can get right back in the organization without having raised any suspicion.

Meanwhile, you are to play your part of the lovey-dovey girlfriend. There will be a surveillance team trailing Adam wherever he is, even, or especially when he's home with you. Matt promises he'll be one of the coppers out there as much as he can without keeling over and that he'll get in touch with you every day, just to make sure you're not cracking under pressure or you're not in imminent danger. The moment you think you are, you call any one of your friends and they'll drop whatever it is they're doing and come in to get you. You agree to the placement of microphones in the living room, kitchen and (more reluctantly) bedroom of your flat, but draw the line at the bathroom. Nobody needs to hear your singing in the shower, though you haven't been singing for quite some time now.

Dan estimates it'll take a month or so for Jack to make a major move in one of Adam's recently acquired buildings and as soon as that happens, the entire business can be brought down.

You're not happy with the situation, but you know, as most things go, it'll get worse before it'll get better. You just hope the people you love will come out unscathed.

As you all pack up to leave, a young officer announces the arrival of Dan's lawyer. Nat and Ronnie stay behind for his interrogation. After all, it has to look real. Matt is allowed to escort you back to the JCP office. It seems that everyone is in agreement you already require a 24/7 guard. And, since you're secretly happy he's more than willing to do his share of the guarding, you're not one to argue. Right before you leave, a question pops into your mind. You turn back to face the undercover agent.

"Dan...who placed that phone call to me last week?"

He grins.

"The bartender of the pub we were in, who happens to be the daughter of a copper I used to work with some years ago. She recognized me, but she's smart enough not to blow my cover. I gave her a tip and wrote on a napkin what she should say. Told her boss it was a prank call so he wouldn't be suspicious, but she knew that she should say it with conviction. I'm glad she's a good actress. Trustworthy too."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I saved her and her mom's life once. Long story. But she's loyal. Don't worry."

You smile ruefully.

"It's a little late for that piece of advice, I'm afraid."

He nods back.

"Just know we'll do anything to keep you safe."

"I know. Good luck out there."

"You too miss Phillips. Now you'd better get my lawyer in before he blows a fuse."

Next time: Things get a little sticky...stay tuned!

Reviews are more than welcome! Thanks for the trouble!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** And we're back! Thanks for supporting me throughout the progress of this story! I hope you like my new instalment, in which a lot happens.

**Disclaimer**: Checking…checking…nope, not mine.

On with it…

Well, so far so good. You're three weeks in this new situation now and hard as it is, you're adjusting as well as you can. The same afternoon of your meeting with Dan, the microphones are placed all around your flat. They're so small and so cleverly concealed, you don't even know how to find them. It was decided you shouldn't know where they were in the first place. That way, you'll be acting way more natural instead of trying to steer Adam into the near vicinity of one of them. Nothing should cause you to get yourself into any more potentially dangerous situations than you already are.

There's a different surveillance team outside your building every day. You've memorized a list of cars they'll use and Matt keeps you updated as well. The coppers are disguised as mailmen, sales agents, plumbers and mechanics. As joggers or couples walking their dog. It's a happy coincidence Adam never noticed, let alone cared about your neighbours. He wouldn't separate the officers following him from the people belonging in your building or the surrounding area.

He's gone a lot these days. It doesn't help the situation in progress, but it does help you to relax. You're still not a good liar and this whole charade is grating on your nerves. If you'd been more in love with Adam to begin with, it might help you with acting nice and sweet and concerned about him. The fact that you have started to resent him, hate him for the way he's disrupted your life, makes it harder and harder every time he is there to pretend you love and care for him.

But then again, so far, so good.

Then, at the beginning of the fourth week of operation "Adam downfall", as you have dubbed it for yourself, things suddenly start to move faster. So fast, you're caught off-guard.

It's been a very long day at court, with the usual lying witnesses and pesky questions and objections. You're exhausted and much like any other time these last few weeks, you silently hope to spend the night alone again. It's creepy enough to realize that, with all the microphones inside your home, your privacy is already compromised as it is and you know that with Adam absent all the time, the investigation might not come to speed, but still...one night of not thinking about this situation shouldn't be too much to ask, should it?

Apparently, it is.

When you enter your flat, the coat on the rack immediately informs you Adam's there. You can smell the fragrance of garlic and some other herbs wafting from the kitchen and involuntarily, your mouth waters. When he's in the mood, Adam's quite a good cook.

The man himself however, is not in the kitchen when you take a peek. Following the sound of his voice, you find him in the bedroom, where he's sitting on the foot end of the bed, talking on his cell phone in a hushed, yet agitated voice. You want to knock and enter, but something holds you back. He's talking about a 'her'. And there's no question who this 'her' must be.

"No, I tell you, I told her nothing. I'm not an idiot. She knows nothing. How can she?"

Of course you can't hear the voice on the other side of the line, but you can tell by Adam's gestures he's not happy with what he's hearing.

"Of course I'm aware who or what she is! But if I dump her now, she'll have even more reason to suspect me."

Silence, growing agitation as he listens.

"Again, no. Jack, I searched her flat, I'm in there now. There's nothing here to suggest she has as much as a clue...yes of course I know where she is. I make it my business to know."

So he has you followed...must not be a good tail then since Adam's so far unaware you've arrived home.

"Besides, the woman loves me, adores me, and the lifestyle I provide. I have her eating out of my hand. And believe me, if I go down, I'll take her with me. So don't you worry. The deal's still on...yes, day after tomorrow. You know where. I'll set everything up. Thirty percent, like we discussed. Yes, I'll talk to Dan."

Silence again, then a sigh, followed by a blood-churning answer to a question you can guess.

"Yes. If she does find out anything, I'll take care of her."

He's about to end the call. He hasn't seen you yet. Quickly, you make a beeline for the front door, grab your bag, purse and keys and get out the door, shutting it quietly behind you. Standing just outside your door in the hallway, you send a quick text to Matt to inform him something's about to happen day after tomorrow. You don't tell him about the last comment you heard your boyfriend make. There's no reason to upset anyone. If it doesn't get blown out of proportion, you might trick yourself into believing nothing has happened. That you were not threatened in your very existence by the man who's supposed to love you.

He calls immediately. He already knows. Dan has informed them and the plans for an arrest are already in the making.

"It's almost over, love. Hang in there."

You end the call and push the keys back into the lock, pretending you've just arrived and hoping Adam will believe you.

All during dinner, he's preoccupied and brooding. But since that's nothing new, you don't comment, only compliment him on the wonderful meal, even though thanks to the nerves, you have no idea what you're eating. Could have been baked sawdust for all you know.

"Alesha, you're hardly eating anything. Are you alright?"

Thank God your answer is both plausible and at least a bit true.

"I'm okay. Just tired. Long day in court. I'm sorry for your dinner. It's really lovely."

"In that case, how about some desert? Warm apple crumble sound good to you?"

With a smile you accept his offer, forcing yourself to eat it all.

His phone buzzes and he checks the message, frowning when he reads it. He types something back, than stands and grabs his jacket from the armrest of the sofa where he dropped it when he came in.

"I'm sorry darling, there's a bit of trouble at the office. I have to go back there for a while. See you later?"

You nod, trying not to shy away from his obligatory kiss on the cheek. A moment later, you breathe in relief as you hear the front door close behind him.

Your relief is short-lived though. This time, it's your phone buzzing and the message is all too clear. It's from Dan.

_Pack whatever you can and get out!_

_Matt's on his way to collect you._

_Lock yourself in until then._

_Throw away this message_

In a panicked frenzy, you delete the text and grab a suitcase, carelessly filling it with clothes, toiletries, your passport and some knickknacks you can't stand to lose. You check your purse for your keys and wallet and finding everything there, you stand in the middle of your hallway, waiting and fidgeting. Within five minutes, Matt knocks on the door. He takes the suitcase from you, grabs you by the hand and sprints away, leading you out the backdoor.

At a run, you make it to a waiting car and only when Matt has navigated the vehicle into the busy London streets, does he talk to you.

"Sorry, love, for the rather dramatic exit, but we can't be sure we're not being watched."

"Matt, what's the panic about exactly?"

"That text you received from Dan came after he got a summons from Jack to tell Adam the deal's on for tonight instead of day after tomorrow. Since we don't know what has gotten them into such a hurry all of a sudden, we figured it was best to act soon and get you out of there. Whatever does or doesn't go down tonight, your safety is paramount."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To a flat owned by a retired copper who's a friend of Dan's. It's more comfortable than a safe house. As a bonus, the neighbours don't know that's what it's used for, so that makes it all the more safe."

"And then you'll leave me there?"

"You won't be alone. Natalie's going to stay with you. We'll all come back to the flat after we've made the arrests."

"Promise?"

You know you sound like a scared little child, and that's exactly how you feel. Scared and too tired to try to hide it. Too much of your world has shifted in too little time and at least with your current companion, you feel comfortable enough to show how much the events of these past few weeks have affected you.

True to his nature, Matt doesn't mock you. He just takes one hand off the steering wheel to grab yours, squeezing it softly and holding onto it for the remainder of the ride.

At a nondescript brick building he pulls into a parking lot. You're too nervous to take in much of your surroundings, letting Matt lead you inside a lift taking you to the third floor and from there to one of the blue doors. He fishes out a single key from his pockets and a moment later, you find yourself in a small but cosy living room. It's odd. Under other circumstances, you'd appreciate the comfortable, relaxed atmosphere of the space, but as it is, it could be a prison cell for all the comfort you're taking out of it.

Nat appears from what is probably the kitchen, carrying a tray with a coffee pot and some sandwiches. Behind you, Ronnie arrives and right behind him, Jake and Henry show up.

As a true mother hen, Nat orders all of you to sit down and eat. In the meantime, she explains to you and your superior officers what's planned for tonight.

"You'll need your energy lads. This might be the last chance you get of a proper meal before you go out and make an end to this all. Ronnie and Matt will stay here until Dan's car GPS is activated. Then they'll follow him to wherever he's going. They'll have an arrest team of twenty men with them and another twenty on emergency standby. They're to take Jack, Adam, Dan and whoever else is with them into custody, Dan to be released later of course, but we cannot blow his cover yet. After the arrests are being made, we'll swap positions. If everything goes according to plan, Matt and Ronnie will drop off their cargo at the station and Matt will drive over here to take Alesha home...unless you don't want to go home. There's a bedroom here too. It's up to you."

You shrug. Despite of being tired to the bone, sleep is the last thing on your mind. You're worried sick. It all sounds way too easy and you can't quench the sickening feeling something will go horribly wrong. Yet, you keep your comment to yourself. Matt doesn't need to know how scared you are for his wellbeing. It'll only add more stress to an already stressful situation.

During your silence, three phones buzz at the same time. As if one person, Ronnie, Natalie and Matt grab their cell phones and look. Nat speaks first, announcing the unavoidable.

"Dan's on the move. You know what to do. Good luck and be safe, boys."

Ronnie stands, gesturing for Matt, but he has turned to you. His crystal gaze meets your chocolate one, filled with all the love and concern you're no longer hiding from anyone.

"Be careful Matt."

"I will. I'll come back to you, love."

He stands too, grabs his coat and car keys, but before following Ronnie out, he hesitates. Then, as on a whim, he strides over to you, pulls you in his arms and kisses you hot and quickly on the mouth. Before you can react, he lets go.

"That's my promise."

He then leaves without looking back, not noticing the colour rising in your cheeks and the knowing looks of his mate and his DI.

The door closes behind them, the room suddenly turning empty and silent. Your hand comes up and touches your mouth, still burning from his kiss.

Matt has kissed you.

He's coming back for you.

Never before has he stated his intentions so clearly. Huh, at least now you have something to thank Adam for.

Nat doesn't say anything, the only visible evidence of her thought about this new development being the small smile across her lips. She supports you then.

So now the waiting game begins. Nat suggests a movie and without anything better to do, you agree, though you have no idea what it is you're watching. Your coffee has gone cold and your not even half-eaten sandwich lies forlornly on the coffee table. In your mind, a tennis game of conflicting emotions is going on. One moment you're jittery and lightheaded with his kiss and the promise it might hold. The other moment your stomach clenches with anxiety. It's like you've never realized before on this level how dangerous your friend's job really is.

And it's doubly painful to know that it's your supposed boyfriend who's now getting the man you really love in danger. Top that off with the sad admission that Matt might not even know how much you love him yet and you have a whopping big mess.

Way to go, JCP Phillips. You've always known you were stupid, but this tops it all.

In a feeble attempt to get your mind off the current situation, Nat tries to engage you into some small talk. To humour her, you try and listen to the story of her son's first school camp, but she may just as well talk about her latest visit to the mermaids for all you care. Thank God Nat knows better than to blame you for your lack of attention.

Perhaps it has taken only a few minutes, perhaps it has taken weeks, in reality it has taken over two hours, closer to three even before Nat's phone buzzes. You jolt from a fitful state in between sleep and wakefulness in time to see the frown on the DI's face. Something's gone wrong.

You start to feel sick.

Nat types something back, presses the send-button and slowly puts down the phone, as if it's some kind of trigger to an explosive she can't stir too much.

Then she looks at you, trying to get her worried face back into a more neutral expression.

"Nat?"

"They're on their way back. It was not an easy arrest. There's been some heavy shooting all around. And Alesha, I'm sorry to say this but..."

"Not Matt! Please, don't let it be Matt!"

You're not aware you've said this out loud until Nat answers.

"Matt's fine, Alesha. He was shot, but the bullet merely grazed his arm, so it's nothing more than a flesh wound and there won't be any permanent damage. But Dan and Adam both got in the middle of a crossfire. Dan's being brought to the hospital in critical condition, but Adam...I'm sorry, but he died instantly."

A tidal wave of pure relief floods through you, followed by a sense of dread for Dan's sake. It's funny how your opinion of the man has changed since you know him to be one of the good guys. You can now sincerely hope he'll make a full recovery.

You wait until your concern for both men is replaced by sadness over Adam. But instead of feeling sad, you feel guilty for not feeling anything of the sorts. What kind of a woman does it make you that you cannot even bring up the right emotions to mourn the man you were supposed to love?

Perhaps because, like you confessed to Matt, you never really did love him to begin with.

Another twenty minutes have passed before the doorbell buzzes: one long buzz, followed by two short ones. The good guys. Even before Nat can get up, you jump up to open the door. A weary looking Ronnie comes in and gives you a quick hug. Behind him, Matt stumbles in, his left arm in a sling, looking like he hasn't slept in about a year. Upon seeing you, his tired eyes light up though. As Ronnie steps away to make room, you stretch out your arms and he makes a beeline toward you.

Careful not to hurt his injured arm even more, you close him into your embrace and he clings to you for dear life. He's shaking with fatigue, weariness and worry for the health of one of their own. In the meantime, you're trembling with relief. He's safe now, he's kept his promise and came back to you.

After a while, he lets go of you a little, just enough to acknowledge the presence of his superior officer. Nat gently leads both men and yourself to the comfortable couches. Ron sets himself down in one of the separate chairs and so does Nat, leaving yourself and Matt to take the sofa. Since he's still holding onto your hand like it's his last link to normality, you sit down closely next to him.

All is quiet for some time. Than Natalie walks out of the room to the kitchen, cell phone in her hand. She comes back after fifteen minutes or so, carrying four mugs of coffee she hands out to all of you.

"I just got off the phone with the hospital. Dan's just out of surgery. He's still critical, but stable. They'll keep us informed. Adam's remains – so sorry Alesha – have been taken to the morgue for the autopsy. If you want to, I can arrange for you to see him there in the morning. You might want to say a proper goodbye."

You're quite frankly not sure you do, but you can't tell Natalie as much. She's going out of her way to help you and you can't be ungrateful and throw it back in her face. So you just nod. If you actually go there, you'll ask Matt to come with you.

In the meantime, Nat continues with the status quo.

"Jack's been taken into custody. I'll drop by the bureau for a few minutes later tonight just to oversee the right procedures. We'll interrogate him tomorrow when we're all a little more rested. That is me and Ronnie. Matt, you're on sick leave until further notice."

The fact Matt's too tired to protest says enough to all of you. You squeeze his hand in silent support and he squeezes right back, using his other hand to lift his mug and take slow, small sips of his coffee. Yours is getting cold on the table in front of you, the warmth Matt's providing good enough for you for the moment.

"Now, there's nothing more any of us can do at the moment. Ronnie, I'll see you at nine for the interrogation, Alesha, you let me know when you'll be coming in if you want to see Adam. Matt, you take care of yourself and your lady here. I'll give you a ring in the morning, but I don't want to see you anywhere near the bureau. "

Clear as ever in her instructions and not waiting for any possible arguments, she bids you all good night and leaves the flat. Ronnie soon stands to leave too, slapping his friend on the uninjured shoulder and giving you another quick hug. Never much of a tactile person in normal situation, this behaviour tells you it's been a haranguing day for all of you. Matt sees it too.

"Ronnie, mate, will you be okay for this interrogation in the morning?"

The older DS's normally animated face turns grim for a moment.

"After what that worthless piece of cow dung has done to you, to Dan, to Alesha, you'd better hope there'll be anything left of him when I'm through with him."

With these words, he slips on his coat and after a last wave, leaves Matt and you to yourselves.

…_To be continued…_

Reviews always appreciated! Thanks a million!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This is it. The last chapter of my story, plus a little epilogue, just because I wanted it. Hope you like it. Let me know and thanks for staying with me. Until we meet again!

**Disclaimer**: there's one person here whose existance is totally mine. Other than that, I don't own them. Dick Wolf does and he's not sharing the credits. Oh well...here we go...

The moment the door shuts behind his partner, Matt allows himself to collapse against the back rest of the sofa with a soft groan. Instantly worried, you hurry over to him.

"Matt? Are you okay?"

He rubs his wounded arm. You sit down next to him and ask, a little meekly:

"Can I see?"

He smiles as he starts to struggle with his shirt.

"Again, she just tries to get me naked."

"I'm worried about you, moron."

"Sexy and insulting...I think I like it. It's kinky."

"Okay...I'll just assume it's the exhaustion talking. That or someone slipped something into your coffee."

"Who could that have been?"

"I dunno. Nat?"

"Sure, cause she's the one tugging at my shirt twice in just as many months."

"Hey! I happen to have very good reasons."

"Not arguing that, love."

"Really though, I think you got a blow to the head rather than to the arm."

"Good. In that case, you don't have to take my shirt off."

"Matt...I do hope for your own sake it's the concussion talking."

"Nah, I guess it's the painkillers they gave me at the first aid station. Doctor warned me I might start to act a little weird."

Involuntarily, you snort.

"As opposed to your normal behaviour? Not much of a change."

"Okay, now the sexiness is wearing off. Come and help me out of this shirt."

"See? Told you I'd get my way."

"Keep on going and you're going to get a lot more than that, my dearest."

Ignoring all the innuendo as well as the multitude of critters in your lower abdomen, you help him undo the front buttons and carefully peel the sleeves from his arms. He's not wearing another shirt underneath and you have to swallow to prevent yourself from salivating at the sight of his broad naked chest. You've always found him attractive and you've always assumed he hid a nicely shaped body underneath his clothes, but you've never seen the real thing. So yes, you unabashedly look your fill.

Dear God, he's absolutely divine. Except for the bandage wrapped around his upper arm, proof of his injury earlier this evening. A solid piece of evidence that brings you crashing down to earth. Unbidden, you stroke the injured arm, before kissing the covered spot softly...

"Oh Matt. I..."

He hauls you in his arms again, ready to stem another flood of tears as you cry for him, for Dan, for Adam and the future you once thought you were building with him and for the mess your life has turned out to be.

All the while Matt's patiently holding you, whispering nonsense into your ear until you calm down sufficiently. When your tears are reduced to some snuffling, he kisses your forehead and lifts your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Hey now, you listen to me, sweet lady. I don't want you to shed one more tear for me, okay? I'm fine, this is a minor injury and I'll survive. And so will Dan. The man is more resilient than he looks. And I know Adam's death was not part of the plan and I'm truly sorry he got caught in the middle. Frankly, we won't know for sure until the autopsy if he was shot by one of Jack's gang members or by the police arrest team. I hope you won't hold it against them."

You're too exhausted to even shake your head. You just sag against him, almost falling asleep standing up. He chuckles when he notices.

"How about we get some sleep here? I can take you home in the morning."

Not waiting for your reply, he leads you to the bedroom, where one big inviting Queen sized bed is waiting. Not the slightest bit abashed, Matt takes off his pants and drops them over the back of a chair, putting his badge on one of the bedside tables. Not knowing what else to do, you grab a clean shirt and underwear from your suitcase, as well as your toiletry bag and take the lot into the annex bathroom. Inside, you brush your hair and teeth and change into the shirt, glad it's not a very skimpy one. Not that you're shy or modest, but because you don't think you could handle any more sexual innuendo between yourself and the man in the bedroom.

The only bedroom.

Maybe you should try and find some sheets and blankets and make yourself as comfortable as you can on the sofa. It won't be that bad for one night, but you can't expect Matt to do the chivalrous thing and take the sofa instead of you. He's taller and bulkier than you are, plus his arm would probably still hurt. And being very much the independent, emancipated, equal rights kind of woman, you figure you should leave the bed to your sweet injured friend.

The course of action decided upon, you exit the bathroom in search for a linen closet. Alerted by your rummaging, Matt emerges from the bathroom he had entered right after you came out.

"Looking for something, love?"

"Eh, yeah...some extra sheets and blankets, maybe a duvet."

"No need, the sheets on the bed are fresh, or so Dan promised me."

"I know, but..."

Catching on, he kind of sadly shakes his head.

"Alesha, love, do you really feel so opposed to sharing a bed with me? You do know you can trust me right?"

It hurts to think you hurt him by letting him believe you don't trust him, while the opposite is the case. Perhaps you're the one not to be trusted. Somehow though, you fear that making light of the situation won't do you any good, so you keep that particular thought to yourself for now.

So with a smile and a sigh, you give in and stop your search for more bed linens.

"You're right, Matt, we can share. Of course I trust you, it's got nothing to do with you. I'm just...confused I guess. Lying in bed with the man I care about more than any other when I've just lost the man I was supposed to love...you've got to admit it's kind of weird."

He's man enough to admit that.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Though I don't mind hearing you care for me so much. You do hopefully know it's reciprocated, right?"

You smile through some unbidden tears.

"I know. And I'm glad. Now, let's go to bed."

"Eager beaver, you."

"Shut up!"

"Yes milady. What would milady have me do with my mouth instead?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps put a sock in it so we can sleep?"

Grinning and gracefully accepting defeat, he crawls underneath the sheets, lifting them up for you to join him. As soon as you let yourself down on the mattress, Matt pulls you against his chest.

"None of this nonsense with chastity pillows or sleeping so close to the edge of the bed you'll fall out. Let's not pretend we don't want each other's support tonight."

"In other words, would milady like to be embraced by her hero?"

He chuckles at that.

"Well would she?"

"Well, yes, she thinks she may quite enjoy that. If only her hero was here. Oh well, she'll make do."

"So Eager Beaver it is."

"Matt?"

"Yes, love?"

"Shut up!"

"Yes, love."

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and draws you in closer. For the first time since a very long time you feel safe and at ease. Within seconds, both of you are fast asleep.

The next morning, you wake up to the delicious scent of fresh coffee. Your stomach reacts noisily, none too kindly reminding you that you haven't eaten properly since breakfast yesterday morning. When you were still clueless about what was about to happen that same night.

No longer able to ignore the rumbling from your intestines, you flip back the sheets and get up, padding barefoot to the kitchen, where you find Matt in the middle of making you a gourmet breakfast. For a moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the view of your in boxer briefs clad friend, coming to the same conclusion as yesterday. He is gorgeous.

Of course another Pavlov reaction of your stomach to the amazing aroma's assaulting your nostrils alerts him of your presence. With a smile, he turns to you and takes you in, as openly and unabashedly as the night before. You carefully swallow away the lump in your suddenly dry throat. How dare he reverse tables on you?

A smile too brilliant not to be illegal swipes over his handsome face. He drops the spatula he's holding and takes the two necessary steps to close the distance between you. Without a single doubt as to where you need to be, where you're supposed to be, you step into his embrace.

"Good morning, love. Sleep well?"

"Very well, considering..."

Yeah, considering. You wish for a single, selfish moment there wasn't anything to consider other than how fast you can drag him back with you in bed. Yet, as much as you'd want that to happen, you know it wouldn't feel right. Not yet.

Because you're sure that moment will come. Last night, moments before sleep caught you, resting in his arms, the fine hairs on his chest pleasantly tickling your cheek, you suddenly saw in all clarity that you never had to question your chances of having more than a friendship with this beautiful friend of yours again. Because it was already so. Always had been. Regardless of Adam, despite the fact you and Matt worked together and had yet to take that final step, you were an item all along.

There's no need to say it out loud either. You know he knows it too. All you have to do is let the pieces of the puzzle fall as they may. The picture is clear to both of you no matter how they end up falling.

So the subject falls flat and you let it. Matt reluctantly lets go of you, turning back to his cooking before his eggs get charred beyond repair. Figuring you might as well help him out, you open cupboards and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find plates, mugs and other utensils. You even find a tablecloth and while Matt is cracking another egg and adding some sausages to the frying pan, you set the table, allowing yourself a smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Everything."

"Well, that certainly clears that up."

"Oh shut up. What's funny is that I'm setting a table in an unfamiliar kitchen in a flat I never wanted to be dragged to, while the man who's technically not my boyfriend but who gives a very credible impression of one is cooking breakfast a few hours after he got injured in a full blown shootout that killed the man who was technically my boyfriend but who gave a very credible impression of a criminal. Now I can either act like this is a perfectly normal Suzy homemaker day or I'll go stir crazy. Need a plate?"

Eyebrows raised in amusement after your monologue, Matt accepts the plate you're handing him and dumps half the amount of eggs and sausages on them. Like perfectly attuned little robots, you swap one plate for another. And like a perfectly attuned old couple you settle down to have breakfast, with the both of you still occasionally snickering about the absurdity of the situation. But since both of you know it's better than the alternative (with you crying again and wondering what kind of cold-hearted, flippant, shallow little bitch you are), you don't comment upon it.

Still in companionable silence you do the dishes and pack your stuff. It's not all that much and you're both done gathering your things in a few minutes. Always being a gentleman, Matt takes your suitcase from you, ignoring your protests that he'll hurt himself.

"It's nothing. Come on, love. Let's get you home."

You nod and follow him out the front door. A moment before Matt closes the door, you give it one more glance. Despite the turmoil you went through inside this place, you can't really hate it. After all, it is the place you and Matt first slept in together, even if sleeping was all you really did. You say a silent, sentimental goodbye and thank you, then step out into the hallway.

Outside, Matt leads you to the car you used the day before getting there, putting your stuff on the backseat before helping you take place in the passenger's seat. You wish you were a more experienced driver, so you could volunteer taking the wheel, but you hardly ever drive anywhere and your license is of little use to you. It wouldn't come as a surprise to you if it has expired in the meantime. You haven't checked it in months.

"Are you okay driving, with that arm?"

"Stop worrying. It's just a scratch. I can drive."

Turns out, he can. When you near the juncture taking you either to your home or to the M.I.U. unit (and thus the morgue), Matt turns to you.

"Whereto, miss?"

Without allowing yourself much of a second thought, you quickly reply.

"Morgue, please. I want to get this goodbye over with."

"Very well."

He takes the right lane, makes the turn and after that, takes you hand and gives it a little squeeze.

"My brave lady."

You smile at him, grateful for his support. He knows it's not the first time you've said goodbye to a loved one, but never before have the circumstances been so odd.

"Lesh, forgive me for asking, but does Adam have any next of kin?"

Frankly, you haven't even thought about them. You know his parents are dead, he's told you once. But as for siblings? Cousins, uncles, nephews or nieces? You search your mind and try to remember if he ever mentioned anything about other relatives. Then you do remember.

"I believe he has a sister, but they never really got along. She lives in France these days. I doubt she'll have anything to do with arranging his funeral now."

"Do you want us to contact her?"

"Yeah, I think you should. She is his closest living relative. Even if she doesn't care, she's probably the one who needs to be there if they find a will."

"Did he have one?"

"I don't know. We've never discussed it. And if he had one, I have no idea what's in there."

"You could have inherited it all."

"All his blood money you mean? Fat load of good that'll do me. I don't even want the stuff he gave me when he was alive. I'll just give it all to charity."

"It'll probably be assembled as evidence anyway."

"Good. Let it stay there."

By this time you've reached your destination. Matt announces your arrival to Nat and she in turn informs the morgue you're on your way. She also promises to track down Adam's sister and inform her about her brother's shooting. Since the two of you were never legally involved in any way, dealing with his funeral is not your problem and you don't want it to be. If his sister doesn't want to deal with it either, she can give her consent to release his remains to the authorities and he'll have a proper, yet sober burial on their account. Either way, you just know you don't want to be there.

So this trip to the morgue, to the cold metal table he's being laid down upon, will be your last goodbye.

For a moment, you hesitate at the door. The medical examiner gives you ample time to compose yourself. She's clearly dealt with this before. Matt gives your hand one more squeeze before he lets go of you, knowing without being told that you need to do this on your own.

"I'll be here if you need me," he whispers softly and you nod gratefully. You know you'll need him when you come out.

When you do find the strength to go in, you slowly make your way to the table, where a motionless body is fully covered with a white sheet. At your nod, the examiner pulls the sheet away from the face.

Adam's features are pale in the unforgiving, fluorescent light. There's nothing here to soften the blow, to somehow comfort you, cushion you from the harsh reality of death. Rest in peace is not to be found in this place. Not for Adam. And not for you.

Tears well up in your eyes, though you're not sure why you're crying. Perhaps it's not because of what you've lost, but because of what you thought you had. It's too late for any questions, too late to ask him if he ever really cared, or if he was playing with you all along. As a person and prosecutor. But it really doesn't matter all that much. After the weeks you've been through, you figure you're more than allowed to give yourself a good cry.

When the tears subside again, you whisper a silent 'Goodbye Adam' to the remains of your lover. You turn away and behind your back, your late-boyfriend, or whatever you should call him now, gets covered once again.

Just outside, Matt's waiting. He gives you a tentative smile when he sees you coming out of the room. This time the roles are reversed as you walk straight into your sweetheart's arms. His hug is so warm after the icy cold of the morgue and just like you let yourself cry over Adam's useless life and even more useless death, you now allow yourself to enjoy the full comfort Matt's providing.

Matt. Warm, living, loving, caring man.

"I love you..."

It comes out like a sigh and you're not even aware you said it out loud, until he answers.

"I love you, Alesha. Never forget that."

In the gruelling weeks that follow, remembering that moment keeps you going. The trial against Jack Riordan won't start until another few months. It takes time for the CPS to sift through the evidence, prepare witnesses and take statements. You're not involved in any of these normal procedures, nor will you sit second chair to Jake when the court dates are set. Thanks to your close relationship (of whatever kind) with one of Jack's cronies, you're in no way unbiased and the accused's lawyer would have no trouble in demanding the judge to declare this a mistrial. And rightfully so.

You are to show up as a key witness though and no matter how many times you've given a statement, you're still shaking in your boots at the thought of it. Vividly you remember last time you were on the witness stand. You never lied, but still…your rapist walked free. It doesn't matter he was later successfully convicted. He was never convicted for what he did to you and despite of everyone telling you otherwise, you continue to blame yourself.

So no, you're not looking forward to this specific day in court.

Whenever you feel sorry for yourself though, there are two things distracting you. First, there are your regular visits to Dan at the hospital, whose condition is slowly but steadily improving. He has a long way to go before he'll get a clean bill of health again and he might never get back to his old job, but at least he's fighting hard to make an appearance in court and give his testimony. His struggle, his fight humbles you. As does his wry, cynical sense of humour, despite of the situation he's in. It's strange how well the two of you get along.

It's been a few weeks since you've said goodbye to Adam in that cold morgue. As promised, Nat unearthed his sister's address and made the necessary arrangements for his funeral. Just like you suspected all along, she wasn't interested in what had happened to her only brother, nor was she very surprised at how his death came to be. Since no written will was found, all his belongings went to her anyway, except for what would be used as evidence. Cool as a cucumber, Adam's sister had given Natalie the contact information of her solicitor considering her inheritance, stating clearly that she didn't wish to be bothered with any funeral details again.

The remains of Adam Garrison were cremated, his ashes scattered at an anonymous field. No speeches, no flowers, not one kind word. Part of you felt guilty, a bigger part was just too emotionally drained to care.

And all this time, Matt was there, perfectly attuned to your needs, hovering in the background when you wanted to deal with your conflicting emotions by yourself, ready to fold you in his comforting embrace when you had to admit you couldn't do it alone.

You haven't slept much in your own flat since that day. For all the post Adam cleaning you did, your belongings seem alien to you. Everywhere you look, there are things reminding you of the times he's spent at your place, even without the expensive suits around. You donated every single item of clothing not being brought into evidence to charity, including the overly fancy dresses he loved for you to wear. They're all bought with dirty money, so you feel you have no right to keep them. Plus, you never felt comfortable in dresses that cost more than you make in a month. The jewellery that went with it you sold, again donating every penny you made to a good cause. You sleep a little better knowing that some kids can get a better life with the money you made.

Though in the middle of the night, as you lie tossing and turning between your own sheets (having tossed out the four hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets Adam insisted on buying), you do come to the conclusion that sleeping better at night is just a figure of speech. You're not getting more than perhaps four hours of slumber every night.

For a long time, pride and self-punishment prohibits you from making the call you know will not go unanswered, but when you start making the most rookie mistakes at work, you finally have no choice but to admit defeat. And pick up the phone.

That same evening, he shows up at your doorstep, taking your small suitcase in one hand and stretching the other to take yours. That night, and every night after that, all during the trial, you stay in his flat, in his arms.

True to his patient nature and his genuine love and concern for you, Matt never pushes you for either answers you're not ready to give or promises you're not ready to make. All he does is hold you close to him, understanding that all you need is just the sound of his steady heartbeat to know he's there, that you're safe and loved. Not alone.

Despite of mutual declarations of love, nothing has happened so far other than the occasional hug and sleeping in his arms. You're not immune to his gorgeous physique, but you know that your mind is still too preoccupied to take your relationship to the next level of intimacy. When that happens, you want to be able to submerge yourself in the moment, to be truly and completely focussed on him and him only. It's what you both deserve.

You know Matt understands. As he said when you rolled into this:

"We'll get there on our own time. Things like that can't be planned anyway. And I'd rather we wait until this storm's over so we can both relax and actually enjoy being together."

As it is, the trial is over before you know it. The culprits are found guilty and will go away for a very long time. Dan is on the mend, walking with a cane, but expected to make a full recovery a lot sooner than anticipated.

When the verdict is in and the long days of preparation are over, you meet the gang, with Dan as honorary guest, in your usual pub. The mood is one of relief and euphoria. All is over and the world can revolve around its normal axis once more. For some reason though, Matt's acting very secretive. His mind seems to be miles away and when you ask him if he wants a refill on his drink, you have to repeat yourself twice before you get an answer. And even then you figure he wouldn't have heard you if you had asked him to show up in a dress tomorrow.

That night, he's just as sweet to you as normal, so you chalk his odd behaviour up as nothing but a sign of letting off some steam and put your tired head down on his chest.

The nest morning, he casually asks you to go on a drive with him. Thinking he might want to take you for a small picnic in the country, you pack a basket and follow him out the door. He drives further north, heading for the utmost outskirts of the city, but stops in a nice looking neighbourhood instead. Looking around, you see some nice houses, not overly big, not overly modern, but well-maintained, with small front gardens and broad windows.

Thinking he might want you to meet someone he knows, you ask him.

"Matt, who lives here?"

He smiles, but doesn't answer. Instead, he gets out and gallantly opens your car door for you to step out. You do and immediately, he reaches for your hand and guides you up to the garden path of one of the houses. He rings the bell, ignoring your repeated questions.

The door gets opened by a middle aged lady in a three piece business suit, holding a clipboard. She greets Matt by his last name, then extends her hand to you.

"Trish Jenkins."

Okay…she has a name. Good for her. Does she have a function too? One that would explain what's going on?

Matt again takes your hand and pulls you over the threshold. Only then do things start to make sense. The house is completely empty. Your heels sound hollow on the wooden floorboards. Curious now, you allow Matt to take you through one room after another. There are two nice, roomy bedrooms, one smaller room that could be used as an office (or nursery?) and there's an open attic, with the option for one more bedroom or just storage. There's a recently installed state of the art bathroom with a nice sized bath and shower and even the luxury of two sinks. The toilet is separate, which you also like.

Downstairs, there's an open plan kitchen and a light, airy living room. In the hall, there's a separate toilet and a spacious storage cupboard. The back yard is small, with a tool shed at the very end, but it has enough privacy and most of the sun during the day. There's enough parking space in the street and a direct train line downtown.

So far, you like what you see and you turn to Matt, standing right behind you with a hopeful look in his eyes. Finally, he starts to explain himself.

"I stumbled across this place several months ago, when we had to come here to question a witness. This place was already for sale, but I didn't have any reason to look into it. But now that we've gotten together and you're hardly ever at your own flat, I thought it might be an idea to make some inquiries."

"And you never once thought of asking me what I might want?"

You must have sounded more offended than you intended to, because he looks at you with shame in his eyes. That and genuine fear he might have taken things too fast by going house-hunting.

Truth is, you're already falling in love with this house. As much as you love Matt, as much as you appreciate his hospitality, his flat is on the smallish side for the both of you and even if you've been there for months now; it still feels you're a guest rather than a co-inhabitant. So before you can change your mind, before any alarm bells can go off, you quickly pull him into your arms and kiss his lips. His sigh of pure relief makes you giggle.

"Oh thank God. Don't do that to me again! I was so afraid you wouldn't want to consider doing this."

"Oh, I'll consider it. You know the asking price?"

He tells you and together you go and find the real estate agent to make an offer…

Two weeks later, the deal is closed. With the market as sad as it is, the house is yours for a bargain price. With a light and fresh new beat in your heart, you give your notice to your landlord and sign the paperwork making you and Matt owners of your own little castle.

The entire team pitches in to help you move in. That night, drinking a beer on a couple of garden chairs (your new couch and some other furniture arriving tomorrow), Matt suddenly gets up and disappears into the hallway. He comes back with a small, flat, square box.

"Got a gift for you."

Curiously, you unpack it, revealing a pretty name sign. Since you're tired and a little slow thanks to the beer, it takes you a while to register what it says.

_Alesha and Matt Devlin_

No Phillips.

Alesha Devlin…

What?

Only then do you notice Matt kneeling in front of you, holding out another small, square box…

THE END

Smallest of epilogues:

One year later…

It's a dreary London summer's day, but nothing can change the flutter in your heart as you set the table for two in a most romantic fashion. Your casserole is getting ready in the oven and a bottle of bubblies is holding the main stage on the table.

You hear his car coming to a halt in front of the house. Matt gets out, carrying a bunch of roses. You smile; he remembered. It's your first year anniversary of living in this house. As well as your six month wedding anniversary. Which was absolutely exceptionally beautiful.

As soon as he opens the door, you throw yourself at him, kissing him soundly. He smiles at you, handing over the now slightly crushed looking roses. Oh well…

When dinner is in progress, he hands over another gift. It's a pretty silver charm bracelet, with a heart charm on it.

"You'll get a charm for every six months we're together, so in the end there should be at least a hundred."

Delightedly, you kiss him for his thoughtful gift. And then give him yours, again butterflies churning in his stomach as you await his reaction.

Carefully he unwraps his gift, finding a flat, square box. He frowns when he sees it's a name sign, pretty much like the one he gave you when he proposed a year ago.

Pretty much alike…but not totally.

It now reads Alesha, Matt & … Devlin.

You could study his face all night as his expression changes from confused to dawning understanding to…

Tears well up in his eyes as he drags you into his arms.

Another six months later, another charm (a crib) is added to the bracelet. And a name is added to the sign.

You're now all welcomed into the humble, happy home of Alesha, Matt & Julia Devlin.

THE END


End file.
